Melanie Black and the Ancient Hope Dragon
by swotvostok
Summary: Orphaned Melanie and her friends escape the strict rules and regulations of their orphanage and befriend a pilot named Billy. If you were asked the question, "Where in the entire world would you like to go. . . ?" what would you choose?


Crime and Punishment My hands stung and the crumbling, infertile soil clung to them like pollen to a bee, but I paid them no heed and continued to creep along the earthen ground as I had before. My little monkey companion was with me, following not far behind on all fours. My long, wavy hair trailed along the ground, becoming increasingly filthy and I often trod on it, but again I took no notice. I became oblivious to everything but what lay directly ahead of me, and my aim was to get there.  
  
A tall, dominating brick wall with formidable spikes and wires perched on top edged the bare garden. The grass was yellow and dying and prickly. It scratched and grappled at my hands and bare feet. But I didn't care. My knees were bleeding and sore and the tiniest droplets of blood stained my plain white dress. But I didn't care. I could hear an angry uproar far behind me, but I didn't care. All I knew was that I had to keep going. I had to concentrate and focus my mind on where I was going. Nothing else mattered. Not now.  
  
As I advanced nearer and nearer the garden wall, I quickened my pace. The tiny brown monkey was hardly visible from above the wild grass, but I realised I could clearly be seen as I knocked the blades of grass apart to allow myself through. I imagined my mother's voice in the distance calling me into her arms, and my father's husky, but audible voice cheering me on with pride.  
  
There was a yell from behind me and I knew I had been spotted. I stopped abruptly where I was, and sat crouched low, so my head was below the level of the grass, and then I slowly twisted round to see the commotion. One of the girls was pointing to an area in the grass where she had last seen it part, where my blond head had emerged momentarily and then sank back into the wild grass. One of the ladies was standing beside her, following her finger but not seeing a thing. I continued to crawl forwards; on, on, on, I drove myself in the direction of the wall, with quick glances over my shoulder to see if I had been seen again. I could not afford to be seen again, and hoped with all my heart that I wouldn't. The garden was immense and repetitive. No matter where I looked, it was an exact replica of the place I'd just looked at a minute before. To me, it seemed as though the place had grown to twice its normal size. Would I ever reach the end?  
  
The fat, ugly lady was wading through the grass now, looking down at her feet, hoping she might stand on the wretched escapee and be able to scoop me up and take me indoors at once. The lady had grey-purple hair tied roughly into a bun and frizzy strands of it hung about her face and her wild, furious eyes. She peered out of them down a pink, crooked nose, and her scowling lips were smudged in bright red lipstick.  
  
The weather was dreadfully cold, and a chill autumn wind seeped into my skin and froze my bones. But I didn't shiver and I didn't flinch or stop my movement for a second. I was so afraid of the woman, and would rather freeze to death than go back to the place I'd just left! If only I could reach that wall and burrow underneath it and be free of the awful stinking building and the immensely grotesque rooms and the horrid, horrid people there! I heard the voice of another girl, high-pitched and shouting, "Over there!" and then the footsteps of a huge crowd of people, surging forward through the grass, making the very ground tremble. Or was I just shaking? I risked a backward look and gasped at the children and ladies running straight for me.  
  
There was no time to lose! I lifted myself off the ground a little more, and ran on just my aching, bleeding feet, still crouched low. My arms were thrust in front of me, ready to reach the wall at the end of the garden. But surely I wouldn't be able to dig under it in time? What if I was recaptured? What if I had to go back? What if I was punished more than I had ever been punished before? The grass was thinning out, and I could make out the hard stone pattern of bricks in the wall. And immediately, I saw something that made me slacken my pace in astonishment. It couldn't be, could it? Not really?  
  
But before I could rush forward again, a group of children were at my back, jumping, leaping, kicking at me, bringing me to the ground. I was shocked, and all the breath rushed out of me in a split-second. I gave a pathetic cry of pain, as my arms were wrenched behind me and pressed down into my back. I needed to breathe! I needed to gasp in mouthfuls of pure air, but the children were merciless and they tumbled upon me like huge hailstones, and continued to kick and punch and lash out in fury, never ceasing, never stopping for a moment. I tried to scream, but I had no breath left to make me do it, and I wouldn't have heard it anyway, with the cries of anger, and the screeching and bawling and cackling. There was chaos and uproar, and I tried to move my bruised limbs but they were all pinned down and became even more strained. My face was half-buried in the harsh, ragged soil with the pricking and stinging nettles and tiny blades of yellowing grass. I heard screaming and tearing noises, though what was tearing apart was hard to tell. Oh! How I needed precious air to satisfy my aching lungs! And how I wished I'd kept my head below the grass and gone just a little faster!  
  
There was a demanding shout above the riot, and all the children pulled away at once, and stood back to let their mistress through the relentless crowd. Everything became silent for a short moment, save for the wind rustling the brittle blades of grass. Then there was a crunch as the dead, flaking blades were crushed under some enormous weight. I could hear the footfalls, and I began trembling with fear. I moved my arms with effort into a more comfortable position, but I was so afraid, I hadn't the courage to pick myself up. I gulped down cool, refreshing air with slight difficulty, still lying on my front, but without the huge weight on my back now the children had been ushered away.  
  
"Melanie Black!" came the frightful, terrifying bellow that sounded not like a woman, but a man's voice, and a very angry man at that. "What on earth are you doing, girl?" The woman knew what on earth I was doing, or trying to do, but her question was asked to purposely to try and frighten me, who was less than half the woman's size. I glanced up, shaking, at the towering form in front of me. I felt myself crumble under the powerful, mighty gaze of this half-woman, half-man, and under the gaze of the rest of the disapproving crowd. "Well?" came the voice of thunder.  
  
I kept my silence faithfully. I stared up into the wild, angered grey eyes with determination. I did not answer the question, and for a few seconds, I did not move and the familiar, deadly silence surrounded us again. While the eyes of woman and girl connected and tried to decipher each other's thoughts, the children looked on with curiosity and excitement. Then the thundering voice arrived again, but with a worse temper: "Well?" Each sound was drawn out and exaggerated. It was the voice that put fear into the hearts of those who got on the wrong side of this woman. But I still did not say anything, and made to get up, but the lady gripped my ear tight and pulled me up with more pain so that I gasped again, but I set my lips tight and my eyes never left contact of the woman's and still not a word betrayed me. The lady, Mrs Fairsbottom, was ringing with fury now and she screeched as loud as she possibly could so that the whole world might have heard her, "WELL?" And then she spat on the ground with meaning, creating a scene even more interesting to the other children. First someone tried to escape and now their mistress was spitting on the ground! What a day this was turning out to be! "Answer my question! What were you doing girl?" and she gave my ear a brisk shake.  
  
I stood my ground and, much to the mistress's annoyance, kept my mouth tight shut and my eyes fixed, looking more determined than ever.  
  
"I will have none of this insolence on my grounds!" Mrs Fairsbottom roared, and she stamped through the children, pulling me along behind by my delicate little ear. The crowd of children, who had gathered closer and closer as time had gone on, parted again to allow us to pass. No one would have liked to annoy our mistress now! My pet monkey was too afraid to follow close behind, and he trailed along at a distance. He'd never seen this woman so irritated and furious.  
  
I was dragged up the splintered, wooden steps that creaked under foot, and then down the dark, dank passage where only a few side-lamps were lit, casting an eerie orange glow along the walls. Mrs Fairsbottom continued to march right past the dormitories and to the room at the end. The door was once olive green, but now the paint had faded and flaked, and there was a brass doorknob and a keyhole underneath. My ear throbbed and burned, and my hands and feet and my knees were scratched and torn, and my limbs were bruised and weak, and my white dress was shredded in some places. I fought to keep up my mistress's pace, but I still did not speak a word. Mrs Fairsbottom was fiddling with a bunch of keys, and the rattling noise echoed off the walls of the cramped, bare passage. The huge woman let go of me for a moment while she opened the door, then she shoved me in first so that I stumbled and followed behind, closing the door on the affectionate, obedient brown monkey and blocking the door so that I could not escape.  
  
This room was as dark as the passage outside, and I did not care to inspect my surroundings while in the company of Mrs Fairsbottom. There was a brief silence, while we stood looking at each other again, but it was broken when the woman reached swiftly for the window-sill and grabbed a small object, that I could not distinguish the shape or colour of, as it was hidden behind massive, fat fingers. My heart was racing harder than ever now, and I wouldn't have been surprised if anyone else could hear it drumming too. What was going to happen to me now?  
  
I watched as Mrs Fairsbottom approached me slowly, threateningly, and I found myself backing off. I stepped backwards, and continued to walk backwards, and each step I took hurt my wretched feet. I felt the back of my foot stub itself against some type of furniture, and I tripped backwards and sat upon it, the shadow of the formidable mistress high above me, with malice in her eyes. Before I knew it, a hand was in my mouth, and the horrid taste of lavender soap filled me with disgust. I felt like I wanted to choke; no one would allow me to breathe in this place! I wrinkled my nose and my eyes scrunched up tight and my arms were at my mistress's face, scratching, tearing, hitting with all their might. And my stubby legs kicked for all they were worth; but I was weak and the mistress was so much bigger than me and it was all to no avail. I began coughing and spluttering but still the soap scrubbed hard against my tongue and it was far too big to fit into my mouth at once, and it scraped against the back of my throat and I choked even more. I tried to scream again, and I finally did, but it was muffled and sounded more like a growl. When was this pain going to end? When would it stop? I had ceased to kick and I felt faint, but my strained arms were still clinging onto the woman's face, trying to hold her off unsuccessfully. I needed air and I thought I was going to faint at any second, and my stomach churned. The revolting soap was pressing harder than ever into the back of my throat, and I wanted to scream as loud as I could, but the only noises that issued from my mouth were gurgling and coughing. If only this torture would stop! And then, quite abruptly, it did.  
  
The huge form of the mistress stepped back, pulling the horrid soap with her. My eyes were watering with the pain I had endured, but still I did not say anything. I shut my mouth tight, the aftertaste just as strong as the taste of the soap itself, but my determination was still there, still clinging on to the back of my mind. I breathed deeply through my nose, struggling to keep my lips pressed together for want of more air. The woman reached behind her, felt for the doorknob and opened the door. My monkey, afraid of what had happened to his owner, pounced through the gap in the door, and the mistress left the room, never turning her back for a moment, still staring with anger and distaste at me, her little victim. The door snapped shut with a clunk and there was the rattling of the keys again as the door was locked.  
  
I suddenly felt exhausted, and I lay down on the hard, bare floorboards with my little monkey friend tucked under my arm. I looked around me at the room. This was the disused bathroom that the children of the orphanage had created wild rumours about for years. It was nothing like the spidery, creaking room I had imagined, but it was dark and cold. I had backed onto the stool just a few moments before, and there was a bathtub behind me, and there was a window that had been painted black but a faint shimmer of light still poured weightlessly through. Underneath the black window was a primitive washbasin, and the walls were plastered with damaged, chipped tiles.  
  
After taking a quick glance around the room, I curled myself up a little more to try to keep warm and I stroked my monkey's head affectionately and closed my heavy lids, and we both fell fast asleep.  
  
I opened my bleary eyes and saw the dark, dark room I'd been imprisoned in, and it took me a while to remember what had happened. The strong flavour of the soap still had not vanished since the day before. I tried to get up, but I stumbled and had to hold on to the side of the bathtub for steadiness. Sleeping on the bare floor had made me go stiff, and my whole body was aching and bruised and weak. I could not straighten my arms and legs for pain, and I felt ill. I was half-expecting to throw up at any second, but I didn't. I perched myself carefully on the edge of the bathtub and stroked my monkey gently. He was my only comfort now.  
  
"My dear, dear Andre," I soothed, running my hand down his body from head to tail. "I don't think we'll be getting any breakfast today." The sunlight was still seeping into the room and cast a weak flush of white on the opposite wall. I tried to stand up, and I was still a little unsteady and my stomach groaned, but I stumbled over to the blacked-out window and began scratching at the paint with my fingernails. It flaked away easily and bright sparks of brilliant light flashed into the room, and it glittered on the half-polished tiles. My eyes had quite got used to the dark, and my pupils contracted and I blinked hard as I continued to scratch, the sudden sunlight stinging for a second. A huge plate of thick, pitch-black paint came away in an instant, unveiling half of the window. The sudden warmth refreshed my face and skin and I stopped my scrabbling and retreated to the back of the room, pulling the stool out into the comforting light and I sat myself down delicately, still aching all over.  
  
I began singing a little song I had made up, as there was nothing else to do but sing. And I imagined fields of beautiful primroses and foxgloves and dainty bluebells; I imagined flying over the rainbow, hand in hand with Andre the monkey, but most of all I pictured my mother and father standing at the door of our house, a pretty country cottage surrounded in ivy and blossoming trees, and they were welcoming me to them. "Come along, dear Melanie," they were saying. "Come and sit by the fire and warm yourself up and we'll make you some lovely soup and then tuck you into bed."  
What would I give to be with them right now?  
  
I didn't know where either of my parents were now. They had been explorers, exciting, adventurous explorers, and one day they had ventured out and never came back - they were missing. I desperately tried to recall what Mrs Fairsbottom had said to my social worker when I first arrived at the orphanage:  
  
"Her parents just disappeared. Vanished into thin air. It's the child I feel sorry for - just left to her own all day."  
  
And then Mrs Fairsbottom had replied: "Well, she'll be properly looked after in this place. The other kids will love to have such a charming young lady to play with. Now come along, er - what's your name? - ah, yes! Come along Melanie. We'll tidy you up a bit, and get you changed into some proper clothes."  
  
And Mrs Fairsbottom had taken me by the hand, and led me to the dormitory, gently at first, and then the pace began to pick up until I was being half dragged along.  
  
"I will expect no breaking of rules from you, madam," she had said firmly, outside the dormitory door. "Just the same as everybody else."  
  
With that she took her keys, fiddled with them until she found the one she was looking for, unlocked the door, opened it, shoved me inside, and hastily slammed it and locked it again behind her.  
  
All the girls in the room had been jumping on the beds before their mistress arrived, and when they heard the key in the lock they leaped down quickly in fright. Even when the door had been closed again, they sat bewildered and stared at the 'new girl' with aversion, checking me up and down, deciding what I was like, weighing me up, but keeping their distance. And then, they continued with their game as if nothing had happened.  
  
There was one isolated bed in the corner that looked as though it was not in use, so I trundled over and sat my small shoulder bag on the bed, unpacking the meagre contents with care. I was unnoticed by everyone else.  
  
One by one, I withdrew my precious belongings. There was a tattered photograph of my parents standing under a bridge, arms around each other, that I treasured and had kept hidden until now. There was also a gold pocket-watch that had once belonged to my father, a few hair accessories, a toothbrush, my mother's tin thimble and a brooch in the shape of a butterfly, with a single diamond in centre place. I laid these in the top draw of my bedside cabinet, which I found empty. And then, with a muffled groan, Andre had crept out of my bag.  
  
The nearest girl spotted him and signalled to her friends, and they wandered closer to us. I did not like them one bit. They were too curious for their own good and all I wanted was to be left alone. But the girls wanted to touch Andre, and when they came too close, he leaped forward threateningly, chattering and warding them off. The girls were suddenly frightened so, reluctantly, they had returned to their game of jumping on beds until a squat old lady turned the light out and told them to get to bed, or else.  
  
Presently, I stopped my singing and there was, quite unexpectedly, a knock at the bathroom door.  
  
"Melanie? Are you in there?"  
  
I jumped up excitedly, forgetting my pain for a moment, and said, "Lisa, is that you?"  
  
The voice on the other side muttered something which I was sure wasn't meant to be for me. And then: "Yes, yes it's me. And Kylie's here too."  
  
"Kylie?" I was astonished; I peered through the keyhole, but could see nothing except blackness - Lisa must have been blocking the light. Andre ran up my arm and skilfully balanced himself on my shoulder, also taking a look through the keyhole.  
  
Lisa and Kylie had been my only friends in the orphanage. Andre had taken quite a fascination to them, and in turn, I did too. They had interesting ghost stories to tell, and they had been adventurous, always playing dangerous games such as sending each other notes in little paper aeroplanes during assembly. They were full of humour, and never got bored or upset, until one day they got tired of their punishments and escaped the orphanage altogether. They had been missing from the building for at least two months, I couldn't be sure exactly. I remembered when I had tried to escape the day before. I had intended to dig a hole under the wall where no one could see it for the waist-high grass. And that was when I had seen it - a hole had already been dug under there, and I had instantly guessed that was the place where my companions had escaped not long before.  
  
Kylie's once cheerful, but now serious voice entered through the keyhole. "Listen, Melanie. We don't know how, but we're going to bust you out of here."  
  
There was a desperate whisper of "Quick! Someone's coming!" and then the rustling of clothes as the two girls darted off, and heavier footsteps could be heard coming up the corridor.  
  
I found it hard to believe that my friends had discovered that I had been punished, and where I was hidden. I sat back down as quickly as my cramped legs would allow me to, so as to seem inconspicuous.  
  
The footsteps stopped outside the bathroom door, and a familiar, manly voice roared:  
  
"Are you still alive in there?"  
  
"Yes, Mrs Fairsbottom," I replied as calmly and politely as possible, even though anger and excitement were brewing up inside me.  
  
"Pity," the mistress spat, and she strolled heavily off.  
  
After a few seconds to make sure she was really gone, Lisa and Kylie emerged from their hiding place. They obviously found something funny, as they were in fits of hushed laughter.  
  
"Pity!" Lisa mimicked, and there was a fresh wave of giggling. I smiled.  
  
"Right, now we're going to think of a plan," said Kylie. "So just stay here and don't give up."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere," I replied with a sigh, and my two hopeful friends tiptoed away, leaving me on my own once more. I sighed again, and with an eager smile at Andre I positioned myself back on the wooden stool. Andre chittered excitedly, and huddled closer to me, even in the warmth of the bright rays of sunshine. 


End file.
